


The Return (working title)

by IndieChick



Category: Everyman HYBRID, Marble Hornets, Slender Man Mythos
Genre: Blood, Gen, Seizures, Slenderman - Freeform, Slenderverse, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, crossovers, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3788554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndieChick/pseuds/IndieChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is very much a WIP and the content of this chapter may change.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. WAKE UP

**Author's Note:**

> This is very much a WIP and the content of this chapter may change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1-7 went through a recent grammatical overhaul, so you may want to read them again if you have kept up with this story so far.

_Where am I?_

Tim wasn’t supposed to ask himself that; he was on a new medication regimen to prevent his blackouts and seizures from coming back, and until now, Tim had slept soundly for the longest period of time in his life. _This isn’t happening, I’m getting better, this shouldn’t be happening, what’s wrong with me, why isn’t it working now?_

The dim room stunk with dank, stiflingly hot air, which carried a dried-blood-and-rotting-wood stench. Tim felt the sweat build up on his hands, which were duct taped palms-together behind his back. Whoever had bound him hadn’t stopped at his wrists; not a single patch of skin on Tim’s hands showed.

“My head…” he moaned out loud, feeling his temple pound in time with his heartbeat; this and the furnace-like temperature in the room made him nauseous. The single hanging bulb in front of him didn’t do his stomach favors either as it swung to and fro, casting dizzying shadows across the cramped space and making him feel groggy and weak. Was he drugged?

_Don’t puke on yourself, don’t puke on yourself, for the love of God, do NOT puke on yourself…_

He closed his eyes and thought back to the last few nights, trying to piece together how he could have ended up here; only blurry faces swam in front of his face, however, and fuzzy sound bites of conversation flitted here and there before dissolving into meaningless chatter. He remained slumped in the folding chair he woke up in and pried his eyes open again, scanning the room.

It wasn’t completely dark; high up on the walls, thin slivers of light shone through the wooden slats. The room wasn’t perfectly square, either; the walls slanted inward, making a triangle and meeting just a few feet over Tim’s head. _Is this an attic?_  

Ten feet away, the door to the room burst open. _BANG!_ Tim winced at the noise before noticing a stocky man with long, stringy hair standing in the door frame.

“He’s awake!” the man shouted. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty! I’ll be honest, I thought I’d overdosed ya; Morphine Sulfate can be a tricky little bitch when she wants to be. Anywho, how ya feelin’ Timmy? Feeling sassy?”

Tim lolled his head forward, and the man tilted his head at him, teasing Tim with a toothy grin. “No?” he chuckled to himself, smiling wide. “That’s a shame; you look as if you don’t even have the energy to even scream; what a damn shame, Timmy, the screamers happen to be my favorite ones, and now you’ve gone and ruined that for me.”

Tim heard another chair screech across the floor and wished to God he could cover his ears as the man finally came into view, sitting down in the other chair and staring unblinkingly at Tim with his infernal eternal grin. “You’re wondering who I could be at this point; who’s the psycho that dragged your sorry ass in here and tied you up like the little pig you are, huh? You can ask who I am, Tim, there ain’t any kind of reason to be shy here, go ahead.”

Tim glared at the man before him, a rush of stubborn defiance preventing him from answering; he wasn’t giving this walking shit the satisfaction. Instead, he cast his eyes to his feet, grinding his teeth together in a show of boldness.

A few seconds ticked by before a loud _THWAK_ echoed in the room, andTim cried out as the man’s knuckles connected with his cheekbone. His head whipped to one side, nearly giving him whiplash and making his head throb even worse.

“Strike one,” the man growled, his mood changing abruptly from mocking to severe; he grabbed Tim’s jaw and forced him to meet his eyes. “Now you’re gonna consider cooperating here, Timmy; you don’t want to hit strike two, and you sure as hell won’t survive strike three with the state you’re in, you understand?”

Tim sucked in a breath, the entire right side of his face throbbing now along with his temple. “Who are you?” He slurred.

“I’m glad you asked, Timmy,” the man purred, his smile returning to his lips as he stood to his full height and spread his arms out wide. “Call me HABIT.”


	2. PARTNER

Amy glowered at her computer screen, fixated on the two men featured in the live video feed. One sat bound in a chair while the other circled him; Amy could see the whites of the pacing man’s teeth as he beamed.

She drummed a pencil against the desk she sat at, anxious for something, anything to happen already. HABIT had an annoying tendency to attempt to “build atmosphere” before beginning his handiwork on his victims. However, according to Amy, there wasn’t a reason not to quit stalling and start hacking and slicing already.

Groaning with annoyance, she stood and went over to the coffee maker sitting on her hotel bathroom counter and began filling it in the sink. Knowing HABIT, it would be a few minutes before anything happened; maybe the feed would have been additionally interesting had he installed a mic along with a camera in the room. HABIT had his precise way of going about his business, though, and became rather heated when anything didn’t turn out his way. Amy hadn’t wanted to bicker about installing a stupid mic at the time, electing to trust his methods. Besides, HABIT’s “banter,” as he called it, was never as clever as he thought it to be, and she didn’t feel like listening to him blather on about what he planned to do until he went through with it.

She set the decanter in the coffee maker and pressed the brew button before returning to her seat. All the action she had seen until now was HABIT’s swift backhand to Tim’s face, and that was ages ago. Tim hadn’t suffered nearly enough yet. He needed to pay; they all did.

Amy switched tabs, scrolling through ancient photos on her Facebook page. A younger, cheerier version of herself smiled back at her, alongside a man wearing glasses and a goofy grin. Without her acknowledgement, Amy’s fingertips met her screen over Alex’s face, tracing his jaw line and hovering over his pixilated mouth.

She’d seen her boyfriend’s corpse lying in a pool of his own blood, abandoned in a decaying building. They had left him there as if he were garbage, bleeding and terrified. HABIT had been there with her and showed her the way to Alex’s body; he had watched her weep like a child.

_They will suffer for what they did to you, I swear on the rest of my life, they will know how you felt when they betrayed you._

She balled her fingers into a fist, gritting her teeth, and switched tabs back to the video feed. In the shadowy light, she could tell HABIT now held a hammer and had it poised over Tim’s left shoulder. A grin spread across her face and her mood lifted slightly, anticipation making her grip her seat.


	3. CALLER

_No no no no no… JAY!_

Tim snapped awake, screaming Jay’s name out into the miniscule attic and wheezing at the horrible, clammy air around him, his heartbeat battling to regulate itself. _Calm down. Jay’s gone. You’re okay._

Everything was so distant from okay. Tim lay on the coarse wooden floor on his back, panting as he stared at the ceiling: he couldn’t move if he wanted to because HABIT used the hammer to shatter his kneecaps. At least he was out of the metal folding chair and his hands were free, for now. HABIT probably planned to bite his fingers off later, or bleed him out by his wrists, or hang him by his toenails.

God, it was scorching; Tim felt perspiration pooling underneath his back, the stench mixing with the reek of dried blood dotting the floorboards. So far, none of it was Tim’s, but he predicted it was just a matter of time.

He had asked HABIT why he abducted him, hoping for some much-needed insight. He wasn’t being grilled for information or held for ransom as far as he knew, so why bother? HABIT had ignored all of his queries, however, preferring to hear him scream as his hammer struck Tim’s legs, shattering his knees.

He thought back to before he woke up here; a man had phoned him, saying they knew what he had gone through a few months prior and sought answers. Tim had been tentative at first; the medicine regimen he was on was working, but it was a delicate cocktail. Any sort of reminder of what transpired could have sent him right back to having seizures every other night. Nonetheless, he thought about what he went through while he and the only friends he’d ever had turned against each other, manipulated by a paranormal being, and figured he was one of the only people the caller could contact for answers, so he arranged a meeting. However, if he had known the unidentified caller would drug his drink, he would have never agreed to the meet-up.

The caller had been a bit taller than him, with black hair, a dark beard, and glasses, and had the same expression in his eye the entire time, one that Tim misidentified as apprehension and stress. As soon as he had begun to feel woozy though, he figured out what it was- guilt. The last words Tim heard before passing out was _I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_ reverberating in his head.

The caller’s name was Vinny, he remembered now. Vinny had seemed sincerely guilty as Tim’s head had hit the floor; although, if he didn’t want to drug Tim, why do it at all? Was he being held against his will too, confined to a tiny room with the constant risk of death hanging over him?

He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and concentrated on shifting his weight so he could stand up. He tried rolling onto his side, but the effort sent a shock of fresh, piercing agony through his leg and he collapsed back to his original position, regretting the motion with every fiber of his being. A tear dropped from his eye at the pain, and he sucked in a shaky breath.

_I’m going to die here._


	4. FEED

Amy jumped at the sound of persistent rapping against her room door; swiftly, she closed out the live feed tab and pulled up her Facebook page to avoid prying questions as to why she was watching a man writhe in pain on her screen.

She squinted through the peephole and exhaled, annoyed at the man standing outside her door with his hands shoved in his pockets, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet; why did he come here at this hour?

When she opened the door, HABIT peered down at her with the same wry smile he always had stretched across his face. “How’s my little doll doing?”

“I’m not your doll,” Amy answered, turning away from him and returning to her seat in front of her laptop. “I’m not your sugar, I’m not your sweetie, I’m not your darling, and I’m sure as hell not your doll. I’m your employer, nothing else, no matter how much you may want that to change – which it won’t.”

“Ow, damn honey, you’re aiming for the throat here; it hurts so much, I don’t know how I’ll make it”

“Just fill me in already; and why are you here instead of beating him senseless with a tire iron, like you promised?”

“Jesus, who took a shit in your cereal this morning? He’s getting there, calm your balls; all he needs is a bit of extra breaking, and I’ll have him.” He moved behind her chair and snaked his arms around her shoulders, softly murmuring in her ear. “Just a little additional pounding, and he’ll feel exactly what Alex felt when he—“

“Don’t talk about Alex. Ever,” Amy growled back, turning in her seat to stare him down as viciously as she could manage. “I was under the impression you would handle everything.”

HABIT grit his teeth before answering, shaking the thought of her throat in his hands from his head for the moment. _Just a few more days;_ he repeated the mantra in his head, letting it calm him for at least a few minutes.

“This is how I’m handling it, babe. I need you to trust my methods. You trust me, right?” he cooed in her ear.  

“As far as I can throw you,” Amy retorted; all the same, a rush of exhaustion made her shoulders sag, and she found her next words rolling off her tongue with surprising ease. “Though yes, I trust you.”

“Imagine it, Amy,” he purred, his hands finding hers and curling around her fingers, trapping them within his. “In a few weeks, this will be over, and you won’t have what happened to Al- eh, your boyfriend, hanging over you anymore. For that to happen, however, I need your full cooperation, understand?”

Amy slowly nodded, her frame sagging further still. “I’ll do what you need, HABIT,” she answered, though the words felt odd in her mouth.

“Fantastic,” he grinned, releasing her hands from his grip and straightening to pace in front of her. “You’re gonna love what I’ve planned; I’ve already smashed him up physically, now I need to screw around in his mind, break in there and grind it up.” HABIT barked a laugh. “He won’t be able to tell up from down!”

“Sounds interesting,” Amy commented, finding the strength to sit up straight once again, “And what’s your strategy?”

HABIT’s near-permanent, almost grotesque grin grew ever wider, nearly splitting his face in half. “Let me show ya somethin’.”

He motioned for her to stand up and sat before her laptop, clicking and tapping on it until a different feed popped up. “Set up the camera this morning. I wanted it to be a surprise, but damn it, I just can’t wait. Here.”

He moved aside and let her peer at the screen. “This is grainy as shit. What am I…?” She faltered. Squinting, she inched closer to the screen until the shape off to one side made sense. She could tell it was a man lying in a heap on the floor, breathing shallowly, his arms and ankles zip tied behind his back, and after studying the image further, her eyebrows shot into her hairline. “Oh, you didn’t.”

“I did,” he smirked, proud of himself.

“How in the hell…? This shouldn’t be possible!”

“Sweetie, you’re talking to a virtuously ageless malevolent spirit. The laws of nature bend for HABIT. What you’re looking at on that screen is the genuine article. He might be a bit banged up, but that’s him.”

Amy tore her eyes from the screen to stare at HABIT. “You’re unbelievable, you realize that?” she beamed. “When do you plan on using him?”

“As soon as you say the word, dollface.”

She nodded. “Do it.”

With a goofy bow, HABIT sidestepped around Amy’s chair and made for the door. “Keep an eye on those feeds. You won’t want to miss this.”


	5. REMINISCE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal Thoughts

Tim panted as he lay propped up in one corner, still exhausted from the agony and exertion it took, and sweat dripped from his hairline and mixed with his tears on his flushed face; every minute he sat in this room became another minute he needed breathe in near-rancid air.

 _You can’t break me,_  he forced himself to recite, y _ou can’t break me, I’m stronger than you, I’ve been through worse, I’ve done worse, you can’t break-_

Again, a fresh wave of intense throbbing from his shattered knees made him grind his teeth together; at this rate, he wouldn’t have teeth left by the close of the day, whenever it came.

He let his eyes close, welcoming sleep as a friend, figuring he could rest for at least a few hours before HABIT came back with a chainsaw.

* * *

 

  _He willed his legs to pump faster, however his body wouldn’t listen to him as he crashed through the forest, darkness threatening to swallow him. Even though couldn’t tell one damn shape from another in the blackness, he knew he needed to run._

 _It came closer, he could feel it; his breath rasped in his throat, a loud, grating sound that surely wasn’t helping his what little stealth he had._ _Meanwhile,_ _branches ripped at his face; he could taste a bit of blood from a nasty cut just above his lip._

_Suddenly, something caught his foot and he fell, smashing his shoulder on an exposed patch of rock; he hissed at the sudden impact, flipped himself over on the ground and yelped._

_He was right there, standing over Tim in the dark, head tilted and arms dangling by his sides. Immediately, Tim felt his throat constrict, and he stared wide-eyed in terror as his fingers began to shake. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move his limbs, and he couldn’t run away from this monster, he couldn’t save himself._

_The tremors wracked his body, and he writhed as the looming figure watched passively, its face as blank as ever. Then Tim’s mouth stretched open, silently screaming and intermittently gasping for breath as his back arched excruciatingly in the leaves, his arms stretched out to his sides and his legs kicked fruitlessly._

_Before his eyes rolled back in his head, he glimpsed a thin, spindly arm reaching for his face._

* * *

 

 “NO!”

Tim’s fingers clutched at the floorboards while the rest of him shook, and his sudden jolt worsened the throbbing in his legs.

“Damn it…  _Damn it!”_ he yelled, pounding the floor with his fist and furiously rubbing fresh tears away from his face, questioning why he couldn’t just die, and why hadn’t HAIBT killed him already.

“I’M DONE!” he screamed, “I’m done, I’ve had it, kill me, already, I’m done! I’m- I’m done… I’m done…” his voice receded into a whimper as sobs wracked his chest. “I’m done, I’m done…”

He hadn’t heard HABIT enter the room; nevertheless, HABIT stood in the doorframe, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you when you’re done, shit hole,” he growled. “Buck up. I brought a friend to keep you company.”

Something heavy landed beside Tim and grunted at the collision, moaning as it rolled over to face him. Once he could discern what the object was, Tim’s face went pale, sickly white with utter shock.

“I’ll let you two catch up; I’m sure you boys have tons to talk about. Toodles!”

Tim wasn’t listening, because both he and the man beside him had locked eyes, rendered completely speechless.

“Is it too late to ask him for my camera back?” Jay asked, and offered a weak smile.


	6. RECONNECT

“Jay?”

This couldn’t be happening; he hallucinated again, his last dose of medication had worn off and he now imagined his dead friend lying beside to him in this hellhole, it was a coping mechanism. _Jay’s dead, he isn’t here, he’s dead, and I saw him bleeding out in my house, and he shouldn’t be here._

Jay shrugged, “Don’t ask how, I have no clue, as per usual, but yeah, it’s me; crazy, right?”

Tim shook his head, “No… No, this- this has to be a trick, you’re not real; Jay’s dead, you’re not Jay!”

“But… Tim, it’s _me_ ,” Jay implored, “I realize it isn’t supposed to be possible, and again, I’m definitely not the one to ask as to how or why I’m here right now, but I’m here.”

“No,” Tim murmured, looking away from Jay and staring at his feet while rocking himself, “not real, not real, not real…”

Jay’s face fell, his brows furrowing, and he thought for a moment before continuing, an idea forming in his head, “You gave me your pills.”

Tim stopped rocking and stared at Jay again, “What did you say?”

“Yeah, remember? You gave me a little of your medication after that monster came after us in Alex’s house. You panicked since I’d had a seizure and wasn’t too responsive afterwards, and I was all upset about it, and afterwards you and I ate shitty gas station food in our hotel room. You remember, right? Tim?”

It was all true, and Tim remembered the moment clearly; he remembered the worry when he found Jay wandering outside the hotel room, and the taste of gas station jerky. He remembered the relief he felt as he watched Jay improve daily.

Tim reached out a hand toward him, resting it on the side of his face and leaning in to study it.

“It’s me,” Jay nodded, his voice low and his eyes pleading, _you have to believe me, please._

The silence in the stiflingly hot room only lasted a moment before Tim pulled his friend to him and wrapped an arm around his back, burying his face in Jay’s shoulder as he tried not to sob.

“Jay, I missed—I—I’m so sorry—I left you there, I left you in my house and I thought you were dead and—God, Jay, I’m sorry…”

“I know you are, it’s alright,” Jay soothed, “Tim, you’re eh, you’re crushing my ribs a little bit—“

“Oh, oh God, sorry,” Tim apologized, backing off, yet leaving his palm on Jay’s shoulder; he couldn’t move past the fact that Jay was here, now, when by all logical reasoning he shouldn’t be.

_Don’t question it._

“It’s great to see you,” Jay grinned, “despite the circumstances, obviously.”

“Yeah, those,” Tim nodded. “Still can’t believe that guy drugged me—“

“The scary one?”

“No—although, I’ll bet he planned it, but he had a buddy who talked me into meeting him. Apparently there was something in my drink, and after passing out, I woke up to this nightmare. You?”

“Told you, no idea,” Jay replied, “all I remember is getting shot and watching myself bleed out… when I woke up, I was in a dark room staring up at McStabby with my arms and legs zip-tied. He hasn’t let me out of these yet, by the way; I need to pee like a horse.”

“Roll yourself into a corner when you pop, alright?” Tim laughed. He truly laughed. _How screwed up am I?_ “I’ll need to figure out something for myself here soon; he took a hammer to my kneecaps.”

“Holy shit, are you serious?”

“Take a look.”

Tim gingerly rolled up his pant leg, wincing as the fabric scratched his swollen, purple-and-red knees. “I haven’t tried standing up yet, though something tells me that wouldn’t be smart.”

“Jesus…” Jay murmured. “Yeah, I can see why. Did he hit you anywhere else?”

“Other than bitch slap me for being stubborn? Not yet. Something tells me he has much more planned, though. Are you wounded?”

“Not nearly as much as you, no. He gave me a right hook to the temple to knock me out once, though that was the worst of it. Lucky me.”

“Lucky you,” Tim agreed.

Jay shuffled on the floor, scooting as close as he could to Tim. “Any idea how long you’ve been in here?”

“No, not at all. I can’t for the life of me figure out why he locked me in here. I’ve been trying to come up with a decent reason to hang onto us, and I can’t.”

“I wouldn’t waste my time trying to figure a lunatic like HABIT out; he seems as if he has a couple of screws loose…”

Tim and Jay continued to catch up as Amy watched them on her screen.

 _What are you planning, HABIT?_ She wondered. If it were her, she would be there right now slicing fingers off of one while the other watched. Where the hell was that psycho?

_You promised blood, and for your sake, you ought to deliver._


	7. OUTING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Blood

Amy rested her chin on her fist, absent-mindedly picking at a muffin she had bought from a vending machine down the hall, however she barely registered its taste as she stared at her screen, watching Jay and Tim yak it up for the third straight hour.

“Damn you, HABIT,” she muttered; it would be just like him to make her wait. She hated how she could never quite gain a handle on him, couldn’t figure him out. He had seemed eager to aid her in the beginning; hell, he had been the one to seek her out.

While she continued to glare at the screen, her mind wandered to the day she answered her door to him all those months ago. Up until that point, she had been living a normal, supernatural-entity-free life, as far as she knew. She remembered how off-putting he had seemed, with his too-wide smile and bold stare; once he started talking though, she hung on every word of his as if he hypnotized her.

He had told her what actually happened to her boyfriend, Alex; how he hadn’t packed up and ran out on her as she assumed, but was slaughtered by someone he counted as a friend. Afterwards, he had shown her the Marble Hornets account online and guided her to the entries she needed to see, told her the other videos would just distress her further. He had finally shown her the truth, and for that, she was indebted.

Still, she didn’t trust him completely, however; there was something in the way he gaped at her, as if she were something he wanted to devour. He always looked for justifications to place his hands on her, and more than once, she needed to tell him to lay off; nevertheless, it hadn’t stopped him.

There was also his unsettling preoccupation with knives. He persistently wanted to show off his expansive collection of weapons, and after a while Amy simply let him drone on and on about the difference between machetes and scythes; as long as she could watch those wicked blades in action, she didn’t care.

She stood from her chair and abandoned the muffin, pulled on her shoes and headed for the door; nothing worth watching happened on the feed all day, and she needed a little air.

The hotel HABIT had booked for her- he seemed inexplicably loaded with cash- sat in a rural spot somewhere in New Jersey. She could only reckon the boys were being held close by, though HABIT never let her know precisely where they were; as long as she had the video feed, however, she didn’t need to know.

 She picked her way along the poorly maintained sidewalk until she came to the tree line a ways off from the hotel parking lot and stared at the forest in front of her, feeling an uncharacteristic urge to walk closer, as if the trees themselves were calling to her, beckoning her forward. She submitted, letting her arms dangle at her sides as she made for a thin trail nearly covered by underbrush.

The night dragged on, and Amy continued through the woods without a single inclination as to where she walked or why. She only knew she needed to move along this trail.

Something stirred off to her left, and she whipped her head around to catch what it was. Squinting, she could spy something picking its way through the leaves, moving toward her.

_It will kill you._

Amy blinked, stunned by the intrusive thought; _what was that?_

_It will kill you, kill it first._

It wasn’t her voice; it wasn’t even human.

_Kill it, or it will kill you._

Amy obeyed the voice and rushed at the figure in the dark, flying through the trees with near inhuman speed. _I need to kill it, it needs to die now, it will kill me, kill it first._

The figure ran from her; she was faster. Inexplicably fast. She reached it in seconds.

_Rip, Bite, Claw, Kill._

* * *

 

 

Hot tears streaked down Amy’s face; she had been drifting through the woods for hours, terrified and alone. Somehow, she found the lights of the parking lot and followed them back to the hotel; once she arrived, the parking lot was empty except for one man leaning against a light pole.

“You have a nice walk?” the man grinned, “Looks like you had a bit of fun out there.”

Amy stepped into the halo of light coming from the streetlamp overhead. “H…HABIT?”

“What was it, then? Deer? Rabbit? Person?”

“I… what?” she mumbled, tilting her head at him.

“The blood, dumbass. Where’s it from? It ain’t yours, is it?” he asked, unnaturally casual.

“Blood…” She gazed down at herself; indeed, bright red blood showered her clothing from head to toe. Her hands were wholly red up to her elbows. She brought a finger to her mouth and sniffed before touching her tongue to her fingertip, and thin smile played on her lips.

“Deer,” she answered, her voice as even as his. “I remember, it was a deer.”

HABIT nodded, pursing his lips to prevent himself from smiling wider. “Step inside and shower off, doll face; people will notice all that blood.”

She nodded back, permitting him place his hand on the small of her back to escort her to her room.


	8. ONSET

Tim shook himself awake, sputtering and spitting water from his mouth; icy water soaked his upper half and dripped into his eyes.

“This way, Timmy, I’m over here,” HABIT snapped his fingers in Tim’s face. “Wakey Wakey, Tim, there’s a busy day ahead of us today!”

Disoriented and soaking wet, Tim blinked until he could discern HABIT’s features and a bucket sitting beside to where HABIT stood. Shivering, he tried shuffling himself away, but HABIT seized his forearm before he could scoot out of reach. “Now where were you planning on running off to, hm? There isn’t a single place you could escape to. Can’t run away without your kneecaps.”

HABIT unsheathed a hunting knife from his belt and touched the tip of it to Tim’s shoulder, holding him in place. “You remind me of this one poor soul,” he began, “I believe I sawed one of his legs off. He tried crawling away from me at one point, and you know what I did? I flipped him over and started sawing off his arm. Oh, he screamed and screamed, sounded just like when you stick a pig, all high-pitched and desperate. After beating the shit out of him, I cut out his tongue and made him swallow it. Shit’s hilarious to watch.”

Tim swallowed, remaining still and silent throughout HABIT’s anecdote; he only spoke up when he didn’t spot Jay anywhere in the room.

“Where is he?” Tim tried to force his voice to be as authoritative as possible, but it came out shaky and barely stronger than a whimper.

“ _Where is he?_ ” HABIT mocked. “Don’t you worry, Tim, your friend’s gonna have his share of whoop-ass today, same as you.”

“Don’t touch him!”

HABIT barked out a laugh. “You still don’t get the picture! How much of a dumbass are you? I can do _anything I damn please_ with you and Jay, Tim. You know why? Nobody’s looking for you. Nobody knows you’re here, and no one cares. You two did such a swell job of keeping yourselves all isolated and shit, it made that bit of my job a breeze.”

HABIT placed his palm on the butt of his knife and pressed it further into Tim’s shoulder, drawing blood and making Tim grimace. “Now if you’re done pretending to be a hero, let’s move on with the party, shall we?”

Before Tim could react, HABIT snatched up Tim’s ankles and began dragging him from the room. Tim howled at the pain spreading throughout his legs and flailed his arms, trying to grab on to the doorframe. He managed to wrap his fingers around it before HABIT yanked him off and dragged him down the hall toward the stairs.

“Vinny! Haul your lazy ass over here!” HABIT hollered. Tim heard hurried footsteps resound on the stairs, craned his neck and recognized the bearded man he met before.

“Don’t do this,” Tim pleaded with him, “I can see you don’t want to, please, call for help or something!”

HABIT cut Tim’s begging short with a kick to his crotch. “Shut up, shit stain! Vinny, quit being useless and grab his shoulders so I can bring him down the stairs. That table better be ready.”

Vinny nodded, circling around Tim to lift up his upper half. As he did, he caught Tim’s attention with the same sad expression in his eyes from before. _I’m sorry._


	9. FLOOD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Drowning, Torture

Vinny and HABIT carried Tim down the stairs and through a back door out onto a lawn just behind the house. It was the middle of the night by Tim’s estimation; the sky was black, and he couldn’t find a single star. The only light source came from a floodlight mounted to a section of gutter on the house itself, and the light shone directly onto what appeared to be a hospital gurney.

They dumped Tim onto the gurney and began looping the thick leather restraints around his body, pinning him to the bed. Tim fought as much as he could, but hunger and sleep deprivation drained his energy, rendering his struggling useless as HABIT tightened the straps so much he could barely breathe.

“Now for the fun part,” HABIT grinned again, seeming genuinely eager as he unwound a garden hose, turned it on, and dragged it over to the gurney, “I’ve always wanted to test this out. I flailed the last one so hard he died before I could test this to see if it works. Guess we’ll all find out tonight, eh? Vin, grab a towel from the kitchen while I set up the tripod.”

Vinny did as HABIT told him after casting one more apologetic glance at Tim, who glowered at him before turning away. _Screw him and his apologies; if he was sorry, he would save me,_ he thought bitterly.

Tim heard an electronic beep and turned his attention to HABIT, who fiddled with a camcorder a few feet away. “Smile, Tim. You’re on camera,” he smiled, walking in front of the tripod to wave at the lens before snatching the towel away from Vinny. He walked around to the head of the gurney and leaned over Tim’s face, bracing his hands on either side of Tim’s head.

“Have you ever heard of ‘waterboarding’, Timmy?” he asked, “It’s an ancient technique, though it’s still popular as far as torture methods go. Here’s how it works.”

HABIT wrapped the towel over Tim’s face, smothering him, and held the hose so the stream of water flowed directly into Tim’s mouth. Tim bucked against the restraints, unable to breathe as water flooded his throat and nostrils; he was drowning. Seconds dragged on and Tim’s lungs burned for oxygen; water dripped from his hair and soaked the entire front of his shirt.

After an eternity, HABIT lowered the hose and removed the towel from Tim’s face and Tim coughed and sputtered, expelling water and gasping for air, his chest heaving against the leather straps.

“And again!” HABIT shouted gleefully, and slapped the damp towel over Tim’s face once more. The stream of water from the hose splashed onto his face again, threatening to fill his lungs, and all Tim could do was utter muffled cries of protest until HABIT decided to lift the towel away.

“Looks like it works!” HABIT exclaimed, facing the camera. “Alright Vin, you can bring him out now.”

Vinny ran back inside and returned with a bruised and beaten Jay, pulling him along by his forearm.

Jay looked on in horror, turning his head from Tim to HABIT and back again before screaming at HABIT and trying to wrench himself from Vinny’s grip. “What are you doing to him? Let him go, you bastard! Let him go!”

HABIT cackled at Jay before answering. “We’re just getting started here! Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn after Tim. Just sit and watch for now, okay scamp?”

HABIT wrapped the towel around Tim’s face again and lifted the hose; as he struggled, Tim could barely hear Jay hurling curses and threatening to kill them. “What do you want?” he screamed, “ _What do you want?”_

The only answer Jay received was HABIT’s merciless laughter.


	10. CAPTIVE

They unstrapped Tim from the table and dumped his semi-conscious body onto the grass before they cut Jay’s zip-ties and began tying him down for his turn on the gurney. Jay thrashed around the entire time, putting up a stronger fight than Tim had before him, however both Vinny and HABIT easily overpowered his thin frame and managed to secure him without too much effort.

Jay spat and swore, straining against the restraints even before HABIT touched the hose again. Tim had never seen Jay like this; he was usually mild-mannered, preferring to observe the world around him rather than interact with it half the time. For a brief moment, Jay found Tim’s eyes, and Tim finally knew why he was acting violent- Jay’s eyes, purple and bruising, were the size of the moon. He was beyond afraid; he was in a blind terror.

“Before we come to you,” HABIT began, “there’s been something I’ve been meaning to do. Sit tight for a bit.”

HABIT darted into the house, slamming the screen door shut behind him. Jay stopped squirming to shoot daggers at Vinny with an icy glare. Taking his lead, Tim did the same, hoping despite his state that he seemed threatening.

“Why are you just standing there?” Jay demanded, “Why are you letting him torture us? Is this what you like, huh? You get off on this?”

“N-no,” Vinny shook his head adamantly, “I- I want to help you guys, but- but it’s not that simple. Certain events need to happen, or a lot of people are gonna die, or get hurt, or worse. It’s too complicated to explain-“

“What’s complicated… about letting us free?” Tim huffed, far from recovered from his recent ordeal.

“Please, you need to understand,” Vinny pleaded, “I can’t interrupt whatever HABIT’s doing, it’s not the right time, I’m sorry. I promise you, I’m working on a way to beat him, but it’s going to take time-“

“We don’t have time!” Jay yelled, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take, man. Tim and I, we’re both gonna die soon, and that’s if we’re lucky. Why haven’t you just stabbed him in his sleep or something? Why are you letting him do this to people, to us?”

Vinny’s face changed, as did his stance. “My friend is in there,” he answered. “His name is Evan. And he isn’t the monster HABIT is. HABIT is controlling him- look, I told you, it’s too complicated to explain, but I’m certain Evan is in there somewhere. Until I figure out how to get him back, I need to just… play along.” Vinny’s face fell again. “You two aren’t the only ones he’s holding captive.”

Before either Jay or Tim could respond, HABIT slid the back door open and stepped back out into the lawn, a white-and-black mask dangling from his hand. Tim recognized it and began backpedaling in the grass, bringing an arm up to shield himself. “Keep that away from me!”

HABIT smirked, then rushed at Tim and shoved the mask onto his face, nearly breaking Tim’s nose in the process. Before Tim could tear the mask off, HABIT caught him on camera, zooming in so Tim’s masked face filled the frame.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the Terror of Rosswood Park!” HABIT announced using his best movie-trailer narration voice.

Tim threw the mask away from him, locking his eyes onto it as if it planned to rear up and bite him.

“Ah, now that that’s out of my system,” HABIT set the camera back on its tripod and scooped up the hose, turning to Jay, “time for a swim.”

Jay put up a hell of a fight, though all his struggling didn’t stop HABIT from wrapping the sopping wet towel around his head and cackling again as water rushed into Jay’s throat.


	11. BREAKDOWN

HABIT sauntered down the decrepit sidewalk, occasionally humming a few bars of a Frank Sinatra song and kicking stray pine cones into overgrown sections of grass. Ahead of him, Amy’s hotel sat sadly in semi-darkness; only one streetlamp in the entire parking lot worked.

He was in a pleasant mood; watching his victims suffocate to near-death always gave him a warm feeling. His only regret was running out of time to start on a few of his other favorite torture techniques. Unfortunately, those would need to wait until tomorrow; he had different events planned for tonight, and those plans involved a particularly annoying, bossy blonde.

Upon reaching the hotel building, he found the staircase and was about to start his climb when a sudden coughing fit sent him to his knees at the foot of the steps.

_Shit, not now,_ he hacked into the inside of his elbow, _pull yourself together and get to the room._

When he brought his arm away from his face, he noticed dark blood glisten on his skin, which he wiped off onto his jeans as best he could. _Hold out for a little longer._

He struggled up the steps, slowly regaining his strength. _Damn this body,_ he cursed, _its breaking down faster than I assumed. Stick-in-the-Mud better had done his damn job._

By the time he reached Amy’s floor, he was able to stand up straight again and noticed the door to Amy’s room standing open, like someone had just forgotten to shut it all the way or planned to step right back out.

“Amy?” he called, slowly pushing the door open wider and stepping inside. He didn’t need to search the room for long before he found Amy lying on the floor beside the bed. Her eyes stared blankly ahead as the rest of her body twitched and convulsed, and thin trails of blood streamed from her eyes and nose. A silent scream stretched her mouth into a silent ‘O’ as a tiny puddle of drool spread on the carpet beneath her. _Stick-in-the-Mud came through, it seems._

HABIT squatted near her, studying her face for a bit before shaking his head and frowning. “Won’t work,” he muttered, “too much of her there.”

_Ah well,_ he reasoned, _cracking Evan’s sanity hadn’t been no cakewalk, either. Maybe two more nights of this?_ He nodded to himself, _Yeah, two, at the most. Can’t rush it._

He shoved his hands underneath Amy and lifted her onto the hotel bed before taking a seat in a chair in the corner of the room. _Just a few more days,_ he told himself, _in a few days, dealing with all of her whiny bullshit will be worth it._

A few hours later, Amy awoke with a groan and a splitting headache. As he had done almost since he met her, he told her the headache came from constantly staring at a screen and stood up to grab her a cup of water.

This time, though, he let the sink run as another coughing fit came upon him; he bent over the sink, watching as little red dots sprayed out of his mouth and into the sink before mixing with the tap water and draining away. He stood up, wiping his face on the back of his hand, and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

_Just a few more days._


	12. TREMORS

Jay and Tim took turns hacking water up onto the floorboards of the stuffy attic room. Jay endured the worst of the waterboarding as repayment for his near-constant verbal assault of his captors and sat huddled in a corner, trying to regain his breath.

“Next time, I wouldn’t call his mother a ‘slutty whore-bag’,” Tim panted. “Where did you find that sort of mouth, anyway?”

“He… deserved it…” Jay managed between gulps of air, ignoring Tim’s question, “The… dick-sack…”

“Points for creativity, though; my favorite was the one about his sister and the midget orgy. You come up with that on your own, did you?”

Jay nodded, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a weak attempt at a smirk, “Fat lot of good… it did me. Felt great… getting it out though.”

“I’m sure,” Tim nodded, wincing at the growing migraine pulsing behind his forehead. He groaned, prompting Jay to frown at him with worry.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tim answered shortly, “just a headache, I think-”

Something tightened in Tim’s chest, and he suddenly found it hard to breathe; a tingling sensation raced up from the bottoms of his feet to the top of his spine, and is heart raced and skipped beats while his vision blurred at the edges, turning pitch black and sending him into a panic. Frantically, Tim patted his pockets in search for his pill bottle, but came up empty; HABIT must have stolen his pills before dumping him in the attic. _Shit. Shit, shit,_ shit!  He turned to Jay, breathing heavy.

The coughing started again; it was different from a few minutes ago, when they were both spitting up water. This time, it sounded as if Tim was trying to expel his lungs through his mouth. His hacking shook his frame, causing him to double over.

“Tim?” Jay questioned, eyes wide with concern. He had seen this sort of coughing before. “Tim, are you alright? Hey, answer me buddy…”

Jay’s voice sounded distant as Tim fell flat on his back, his coughs morphing into an unnerving dry-heave. “Jay…” he gasped between retching, talking as rapidly as he could, “Jay, I feel it, there’s one coming, you need to-- you need to listen to me, roll me on my side, and make sure I don’t hit anything—“  

His hands clenched and unclenched involuntarily, and he felt his arms become rigid. A loud ringing sound filled his ears, blocking out all other noise.

“Tim!” Jay cried, crawling over to Tim’s body, which twitched and writhed out of control. He grabbed Tim’s face and tried shaking him to snap him out of it. “Tim, come on, stay with me man, hold on…”

As if answering him, Tim’s eyes rolled back and his convulsions became increasingly violent; his legs kicked the air randomly while his arms flailed around, nearly hitting Jay. He could feel his thoughts slipping away into smoky blackness and tried forcing his mouth to form comprehensible words, but he could only speak gibberish.

“H-help…” he managed, before unconsciousness overtook him and he blacked out.

“Shit, Tim,” Jay panicked, terrified tears welling up in his eyes. He knew about Tim’s seizures, though he had never experienced them without the detachment of a computer screen. Witnessing it firsthand was almost too much. _What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?!_

With trembling hands, he shoved Tim’s body until he lay on his side and took a second to regulate his breathing. He vaguely remembered a health lesson in school on how to react when someone starts seizing, though he couldn’t recall all of it. The only bit he remembered was to ensure they weren’t in the middle of oncoming traffic.

Tim continued to shake underneath Jay’s hands, drooling and gasping. Jay knelt beside him, at a loss; _should I do something? Do I just wait until it stops?_

As suddenly as the tremors came, they went; Tim’s eyes fluttered open, but the words he tried forming just wouldn’t come out yet. He reached his arm out in front of him, not fully in control of it yet, and began waving it around.

“Tim?” Jay ventured, a little shaky himself, “What is it? What do you…?” Taking a guess, Jay grabbed Tim’s hand from the air and felt Tim squeeze his fingers around his palm.

“I’m-- I’m here, man,” Jay nodded, “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”

Tim exhaled, shutting his eyes to prevent them from tearing up and to avoid Jay’s concerned expression; _Stop looking at me like that. I’m not a wounded animal._ Nevertheless, he kept a vice grip on Jay’s hand as he regained his breath.

Ages went by before Tim’s hearing came back, and ages more before he could speak again.

“That sucked,” he groaned, attempting to sit up before Jay pushed him back down again.

“No you don’t!” Jay shook his head, staring Tim down until he complied, “And yeah, that sure as hell looked like a rough one. Thought it would never end,” he swallowed.  “You feel okay?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, pulling himself up anyway. “Quit worrying. I never remember much of my fits, anyway.”

Jay nodded again, catching Tim’s tone and changing the subject. “I kept getting flashbacks to mine. You remember that?”

“Can’t forget,” Tim answered, “as much as I want to. That was the first time I’d seen someone else have a seizure. Up until then, I forgot how scary it could be.”

“So you were scared?”

“Hell yeah, man. I was just glad you came out of it as quick as you did. I seriously considered dragging you to the car while you were still twitching before it ended.”

“Glad you didn’t,” Jay smirked. “You know… I don’t think I ever thanked you. For getting me out of there, I mean. And for everything else, I guess.”

“Everything else?”

“Yeah. Putting up with my moods, helping me find Alex, trying to keep me safe, all of that. So, er… thanks.”

Tim shrugged, “Yeah, well… I owe you thanks too. For just now, and for not bolting when I told you about my past at the hospital. And for believing me and not pegging me as crazy.”

“Can’t call a guy crazy when you experience the same shit they do,” Jay shrugged back.

“Speaking of crazy shit, has HABIT come back?”

“No, he’s been quiet. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

They both fell silent, casting their eyes toward the door.


End file.
